Red

Prologue

She sat in her electric collar, back poised and straight. Her vibrant red curls sat stained around her face, crusted with around her temples. There she sat, cheek swollen with the plum color of defiance, cold and hard.

Her owner walked around her, riding crop he used to viciously beat her with, in hand. The veins strained against the skin, glistening with the sweat of anger and frustration. "Do you understand me, Red?"

She smirked at him, blood dribbling down her swollen lips, condescension woven thickly in her voice. "Oh no, I don't. Maybe you have to beat it into me again."

His lips twitched, and before she knew it, with a roar he was pounding his fists into her again. This went on for minutes, blows striking her everywhere. She could feel the blood as it matted in her hair and stained her clothes and skin.

When he was done, he pulled himself off of the bruised and battered young woman, the skin on his knuckles split and bloody. He glared at her.

She glared back, spitting the blood out of her mouth at him. "Do you feel like a man when you beat me? Huh? Does this make you feel better about yourself, knowing that you can overpower a girl less than half your size?"

Silence.

"No answer huh? You're useless, worthless. You think you need a woman to make you feel like a man? Someone to beat on, to assault at your will? You're a stain on the fabric of society. People like you make me sick."

His grip tightened on the crop, and then he dropped it. He stiffly straightened his suit jacket and walked out of the dark, dank, cold room, where his assistant sat waiting.

'"How did it go sir, did you break her yet?" The assistant's baby blue eyes looked up at his boss, hopeful and excited. His boss was somewhat of a father figure to him, and pleasing him was his highest priority. Even if it was at the expense of another.

'"I don't want her anymore." The larger man's answer had the youthful man's eyes widening. To see the man who fought, so very hard, for a prize such as her, to see him give up was such a shock. "But...sir! You spent over ten million dollars on her! You broke the world record for amount of money spent on a woman! How would you break even?"

Tired, worn eyes traveled over to the man, cold and calculating. He sighed, and clasped his hand on the young man's shoulder. "Trust me son, there will always be someone willing to buy a woman such as her. Someone weaker, with more money. She is a woman of the Devil's creation. She's Red."